by Nicola Marsh
Sick to my stomach at the thought of losing him, I wrapped my hands around my middle and slowly stood like an eighty year old, weary to my soul.
“I didn’t see anyone from school in the club.” My voice sounded small and lost. Exactly how I felt. Totally and utterly overwhelmed by something I didn’t understand, something that seemed to be escalating.
“So? When did you last check your bag? Anyone could’ve planted this thing in there.”
He thrust his hand at me and I shrunk back from what he was holding.
“For fuck’s sake.” He uncurled his fingers and it fell to the ground, an ugly handmade doll with long curly strawberry blonde hair, a pink fake fur collar jacket like the one I favoured and a rope tied around its neck.
His mouth twisted into a stubborn grimace. “You’re on your own.”
I tore my horrified gaze from the doll, the pain in Ronan’s eyes mirroring my own.
He couldn’t have done this. Not when his devastation echoed mine.
I reached for him. “Please don’t go.”
He backed away. “Better we call it quits now.”
“No.” The deadly whisper rasped through my constricted throat and I kicked the doll into the gutter. “It’s not just the doll and the music clip.”
“There’s more?” Doubt warred with incredulity across his face but at least he’d stopped moving away.
“Yeah, way more.” I held up a hand, fingers extended. “All I’m asking for is five minutes. I think you’ll understand why I’ve been acting so crazy once you hear me out.”
His lips compressed in a mutinous line. “It’s not going to change anything.”
Wrong. It would change everything.
“Five minutes? Please?” I hated begging but now I’d made the decision to truly trust him and tell him everything, I would grovel if I had to.
With a disgusted shake of his head, he muttered, “Let’s go, we can talk at my place.”
“Thanks.”
I hesitated, staring at the doll in the gutter. I didn’t want to be near it let alone touch it but considering how this weird crap kept getting bigger, I might need it for evidence.
In case some psycho really did string me up by the neck.
Unable to suppress a shudder, I dug a tissue out of my jeans pocket and picked the doll up by the rope, dropping it quickly into my bag.
Ronan watched, his stoical expression bordering on dispassionate, but I saw the pulse throbbing in his neck, like he was about to bust a blood vessel.
I tried to smile but it ended up as wobbly as my faith in the supernatural. “Full disclosure, promise.”
He grunted in response.
It was better than nothing.
WE’D BARELY MADE it inside Ronan’s door when he dumped his gear and pointed to the sofa.
“Take a seat. I’ll grab us some sodas.”
“I’m fine thanks.” For a drink. As for the rest of my life? So far from fine it wasn’t funny.
I watched him lope out of the room, his easy stride indicative of his inner confidence. Sadly, any confidence he’d had in me was shot.
I had one chance at making this right.
I had to tell him everything.
He was back in less than thirty seconds, vaulting the chair opposite me and settling in. He raised his can in my direction. “Start talking.”
On the silent walk back to his apartment, I’d mentally rehearsed what I would say, but sitting here now under his wary scrutiny, the words fled.
As his expression grew grimmer, I had to reveal the truth. “My ex hanged himself the day after I dumped him.”
“Fuck.”
Soda sloshed onto the front of his shirt and he swiped at it with the back of his hand, spreading the orange stain. “That’s why the doll freaked you out?”
I nodded, belatedly realising my fingers were plucking at his sofa cushions and I sat on my hands to stop them. “The doll’s tip of the iceberg stuff.”
His wariness gave way to concern. “Like?”
“Like after the dead body episode I confided in a friend at school and he hooked me up with his friend, a medium.”
One sceptic brow rose.
“Considering my aunt was on my back about me inheriting the family gift, I thought it wouldn’t hurt.”
He pursed his lips and puffed out an exasperated sigh. “What happened?”
“I rocked up to the address he’d given me, a magic shop. His friend Tabitha had a bunch of people there and was running a séance.”
I could see his lips twitching with the effort not to say something, like “You’re a gullible loser”.
“Cut a long story short, she made a connection with a spirit apparently, who had a message for someone whose name started with A.”
Surprise widened his eyes.
“Said this person was on the verge of madness or some such crap, then spelled out his name.”
The memory of it still creeped me out and I shivered.
“Stupid glass spelled out ‘Noah’. My ex.”
I had his full attention now as he sat upright and rested his elbows on his knees. “What the…?”
“I know, seriously spooked me. But there’s worse.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “Shit, Lys, I didn’t know…”
“Not your fault I haven’t confided in anyone.” I studied my gnawed fingernails, the ragged cuticles. “It just sounded crazy, you know?”
“Tell me the rest.”
Taking a deep breath, I tugged on the ends of my ponytail, twirling it round and round. “I came home after school, found a package on the doorstep. It was shaped like a CD—”
“You thought it was from me.”
I hated his flat tone, like my lack of faith disappointed him.
“Yeah.”
“What was it?”
“The necklace I’d given my ex.” My ponytail twirling picked up pace. “He didn’t want it after we broke up, and I kinda needed closure after he died, so a week later I buried it next to his grave.”
“Son of a bitch!” Ronan leaped from the chair like he’d been prodded by the devil himself. “You sure it’s the same necklace?”
I nodded, wishing it wasn’t. The thought of someone digging around next to Noah’s grave made me feel sick.
He shook his head. “What’s going on? Who’s doing this to you?”
A small part of me was pleased he’d reacted this way; it meant he still cared despite dumping me half an hour ago.
“There’s one more thing.”
He stopped pacing and frowned. “What?”
“When I booted up my computer once, uh…Noah’s song, our song, started playing.”
The deep furrow between his brows deepened as he rubbed the back of his neck. “This is serious shit.”
No kidding.
I picked at the cuticle on my pinkie. “You know I’ve been doing some digging around, trying to figure out who’s doing this.”
“And?”
“Tabitha, the medium at the magic shop?” I stopped picking when Ronan stared at my fiddling fingers. “I assumed she must know something about Noah because she couldn’t have plucked his name from thin air, so I googled her and the shop. Turns out her dad performed at Broadwater Fair and I remember having a run-in with him.”
“What happened?”
My skin pebbled at the recollection of those cold, marble eyes, the cruel twist to Massimo’s mouth and the way he’d touched me on the arm, an intentional stroke that made me want to rush home and shower.
“I ran into him loitering backstage after the show. I’d been to the Ladies. He tried to strike up a conversation, acted like he knew me, which gave me the creeps.” Revulsion slithered through me at the memory. “He persisted and when I tried to dodge past, he grabbed my arm.”
Something in my face must have alerted Ronan there was more to it.
I screwed up my nose. “When I tried to break free, he deliberately groped my breast.”
&
nbsp; “Perverted bastard.” Ronan clenched and unclenched his hands. Knew the feeling; I’d wanted to punch the creep at the time too.
“I threatened to scream the place down but luckily a couple of local kids came by looking for a place to sneak a smoke, so I slipped away.”
“And you think this guy is responsible for all this weird shit?”
I shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know. I asked Tabitha and she feigned ignorance, said she hadn’t been in contact with her dad for years. But he’s the only link between me and Broadwater, and it’s tenuous at best.”
Ronan sank to his haunches and rested his forearms on my knees. I was glad for the reassuring touch.
“Hate to throw a spanner in your theory, but if he was some stranger passing through town, how would he know about your ex? Your song?” He hesitated, not quite meeting my eyes. “The way he died? And how did he get the necklace—”
“Don’t you think I’ve been through all that? I don’t know!”
I wanted to fling Ronan’s arms off and stomp around the room, but the fact he’d listened and hadn’t booted me out stopped me.
“He saw us dancing to the song, so he’d know that. As for the rest, maybe he came back into town, heard some warped version of Noah’s death and dug around a little.” Reaching out a tentative hand, I laid it on his forearm. “I know my theory’s got huge holes in it but what other explanation is there?”
“Could be plausible, but what’s this guy’s motivation? Doesn’t make sense.” He straightened and sat on the sofa beside me, taking hold of my hand as if he expected me to bolt. “Are you sure your aunt isn’t involved?”
“No way.”
“She’d have access to all your personal info from your past. Who you dated, for how long, what your favourite song was—”
“No.”
I refused to admit I’d considered it. I needed to focus my investigation elsewhere, anywhere, other than on the aunt I’d grown to like.
“Angie didn’t do this.”
“Then who did?”
“You think I’d be a hysterical mess if I knew?” My hand hung onto his for dear life. “Because I’m not usually this angry all the time, but this crap is making me a little crazy and I’m taking it out on everyone around me.” I shook my head. “Not good.”
“I can’t believe you’ve been keeping a lid on all this and handling it yourself.” The corners of his mouth curved into the sexy, rock-god smile I loved. “You’re one tough chick.” He touched my cheek, trailed a fingertip from my temple to my jaw, lingered there before sliding his hand around to cup the back of my head. “And I can handle the grouchiness now I know what you’ve been dealing with.”
“Does this mean you’re not going to dump me?”
“Consider yourself reinstated in the highly coveted girlfriend position.”
I whacked him on the arm. “Schmuck.”
As he ducked his head and kissed me, my heart happy-danced. I’d told him the truth about Noah, about everything, and he hadn’t pushed me away.
Guess I should be thankful one part of my life was on solid ground. The rest was on a slippery slope into the unknown.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ANGIE WAS WAITING up when I got home.
“Good night?”
“Yeah,” I said, tucking my bag tighter under my arm, where the voodoo doll made a mockery of that.
I had no idea whether she had Wicca radar or was just plain perceptive, but she pinned me with a glare that had me trying not to squirm.
“Something came for you. It was on the front step when I got home.”
I stiffened as she held out a buff-coloured A4-size envelope. I’d had enough surprise deliveries lately to last me a lifetime.
Her curious gaze swung between my face and the envelope. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I almost snatched the envelope out of her hands and shoved it into my bag.
“Why don’t you open it here?” Her calm tone an order, not a request.
“I’ll do it later.”
“Alyssa, I’m always wary of sender-unknown, hand-delivered mail. And you’re pale, dishevelled and jumpy as a witch near a bonfire.” Her tone softened as she laid a hand on my shoulder. “If you think it could be odd stuff, wouldn’t you feel better with me present?”
“I guess.”
She raised an eyebrow at my begrudging admission and I carefully slipped the envelope out of my bag without releasing my death grip on it. That’s all I needed, for her to see the voodoo doll.
I slid my finger in at the end and sawed open the envelope, taking my time while Angie alternated between sitting and standing and rearranging the fruit bowl. Her edginess didn’t help.
Once I’d slit it open I peered inside, unable to see much beyond two stiff pieces of cardboard. I slid them out, placed them on the counter and picked at the tape holding them together at each end.
Angie made an impatient clicking noise and I bit back a smile: she shared that trait with Mom, the eagerness to rip off gift-wrapping rather than savour the surprise. One of the few good memories I had of the past few years was my birthday, where we’d gone out for dinner to celebrate and I’d opened my presents beforehand.
Mom always ordered online and I treasured everything she gave me. Edible-smelling bath bombs from Lush. Lip gloss from Jurlique. Plain white T-shirts from Gap. Vegemite, the bizarre, black, yeast spread from Australia that I loved for its saltiness. Presents felt normal in a life anything but.
“Be careful,” Angie said, stilling my hand as I partially slid back the top sheet of cardboard.
“It would’ve exploded by now.” I forced a laugh that sounded fake.
Angie gave a slight shake of her head, as if making light of this was sacrilegious.
Feigning bravado I didn’t feel, I peeled back the top cardboard to reveal a plastic sleeve with various objects taped inside and a heap of printed squiggles on paper that didn’t make sense.
A strangled sound came from Angie as I picked up the sleeve to take a closer look.
“Don’t.” She snatched it out of my hand before I could react, the colour draining from her face.
Personally, I didn’t see what the big deal was with a bunch of hieroglyphics, a sliver of black crystal shaped like an obelisk, a clump of dirt, a sprig of rosemary and a pair of inch-long steel nails.
I lifted up the top corner of cardboard and peeked underneath. “We need to check for a note—”
“I’ll do it, you stay here.”
Like hell. While I’d insisted to Ronan that Angie couldn’t have any part in this, it didn’t mean I trusted her crazy behaviour now.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting rid of the evil.” She held the plastic sleeve at arm’s length. “I’ll need to smudge in here. And you too.”
I offered a meek nod, not wanting to alert her to the fact that I’d been there, done that. “Are you going to tell me what that stuff is?”
A strange sound, half-croak, half-squeak, came from her throat before she cleared it. “Death signs.”
Oo-kay. Chalk up another point to the “evil is hunting me” scenario.
“Wipe that smirk off your face, this is serious.”
I stared at Angie in shock. She rarely raised her voice to me, which showed just how rattled she was.
“This stuff you find so amusing?” She shook the sleeve in my direction. “Someone wants you dead. And if we don’t find out who’s behind this…”
She trailed off on a slight hiccup and she stunned me for the second time in a minute when I glimpsed the sheen of tears in her eyes. “Wait here, I’ll be back in a moment.”
Personally, I didn’t find these death signs so frightening. What was this anonymous person going to do? Nail me to the wall and tickle me to death with the rosemary? I guess it meant more in the Wicca world but for a mundane I wasn’t worried. Except for the teensy-weensy fact this thing was escalating. Someone wanted to scare me, intimidate me, and drive m
e crazy.
Screw them.
I was so over this. I hated how my edginess had spilled into all areas of my life: snapping at Seth, being curt with Angie, losing it with Ronan. The stress of the past year may have played a part but I thought I’d got a handle on everything once I’d arrived in New York. Then this crap started and I was back to being angry and resentful and nervous—all the time.
Thankfully, Seth and Ronan had forgiven me for my lapses but if this stupid spooky stuff continued to dog me, it was only a matter of time before I lost it again and then where would I be? Without a friend at high school and losing the coolest boyfriend on the planet.
The sooner I solved this ridiculous mystery, the better.
“Give me the envelope.”
Angie reappeared with Persephone at her heels, and I half expected to see a pointy hat on her head and an ebony cloak trailing behind her. Instead, she held a burning sprig in her hand; not sweetgrass, I would have recognised that after my illicit foray into smudging. Which obviously hadn’t worked, considering the doll and now this.
I nudged the envelope towards her, sliding it across the granite benchtop, and she set it alight before dropping it in the sink to burn.
“You’re next.”
Persephone pranced around my feet, his fur bristling, as she waved the smouldering branch in my direction. The smell reminded me of the roast chicken she’d cooked.
“Sage,” she said, making a weird pentagram sign over my head, in front of my heart and at my feet. “Excellent spiritual cleanser.”
I didn’t think my spirit was the one that needed cleansing. Whoever had it in for me was into some bad mojo. For a start, they knew where I lived and knew how to get to me, playing on my guilt over Noah, and while the death signs held little meaning for me they were obviously serious enough to freak Angie out.
Was that the intention? To point in a supernatural direction when there was a perfectly logical explanation behind all this?
My eyes watered as Angie waved the sage over my face and around my head like a halo.
“There, that should do it.” She placed the smouldering sage in an incense dish and rested it on the floor in the middle of the kitchen, where Persephone curled up next to it.
She held out her hand. “I need to do a follow-up spell to ensure the cleansed energy remains.”